This past weekend does not fall under 'Best Weekend Ever'. Friday night, we did take out from Stir Crazy. I had a mild
sesame chicken. Everything I eat makes me nervous, so while a super spicy
Kung Pao Chicken sounded fantastic, I opted for the milder choice.
Danny was a bit fussy on Saturday. Not horrible, but enough for me to say loudly enough for David's listening ears..."See, this is why mommy doesn't get as much done during the day as she would like". Dave took note. It was like a
constant hand off between the two of us.
Saturday night, we picked up Harry Buffalo for dinner (I know take out two nights in a row = LAZY). Since all I want is meat, especially burgers, I opted for the Bison Burger with cheese. Nothing too crazy. I also had some fries. Those were seasoned.
Something I ate made for one very unhappy baby. He was up all night fussing and grunting. He
sounded like the tennis player, Monica
Seles.
Of course I had scheduled pictures at Portrait Innovations. Gassy baby and pictures spelled DISASTER. Everything about it was a train wreck. Danny started crying right away. Our family pictures came out awful. We would put the plug in (pacifier) long enough for him to stop crying, and then pull it so the photographer could take the picture. We gave up on getting him in any solo shots with the cute outfits we brought. The main goal was to have nice pictures of him taken in his baptism gown. As he's sitting on our laps, he's gassing like a motor boat. As soon as we're done, I take him to the bathroom to change him where it sounds like I'm using Chinese torture methods because he was screaming so loud. His mouth was so wide, I could see his tonsils rattle. It was almost
cartoonish. And he managed to launch his plug on the floor. Thank God for back-ups.
After the diaper change, I take him back out to the area where we reviewed the pictures. Mind you, this place is PACKED. It's a Sunday in November and everyone and their cousin (literally) is there getting holiday pictures taken. I felt like they were staring at me wondering what type of torture tactics I had been using.
Ok, back too picking out the pictures. Clean diaper does not mean a happy baby. As we're sitting there reviewing all 8,000 pictures, Danny is on my lap having a fit...and making music in his pants. Yes, not five minutes after I changed him, did he have another blow out. I all but threw up my hands and walked out. We decided on a picture, and somewhere during the viewing Dave mentioned that there was something on his lip in that picture. Of course, I was distracted and didn't hear him. So, the only picture I want...one in the baptism gown is ordered.
They print the pictures, we leave and we're driving home. I open the pictures in the car only to see there is a giant blob of drool on his lip/chin. So much for the ONE perfect picture. I share my frustration with Dave who all but goes off the handle. Hadn't I paid attention when he said there was something on his lip/chin. Obviously, I missed that. Crying, fussing, CRAPPING kid did not leave me with much more attention paying abilities. He's mad because I'm mad. I'm mad because I only wanted one good picture and why had no one specifically pointed out to me "STOP. Are you sure you want that picture. There is a GIANT DROOL ON HIS LIP/CHIN. Is that really what you want for a BAPTISM picture?" But no. No one pointed it out clearly enough...I was frustrated to the max. So what do I do? Cry.
We get home, I changed Danny back into
jammies and feed him. As soon as I'm done, I all but RUN out of the house to go do my grocery shopping. I put my fussy baby down for a nap before I left. I called my mom on my way to Giant Eagle, and she is laughing so hard at my story I want to hang up on her. She apparently thinks it's funny when my life doesn't go "as planned".
Danny
continued to motor boat and blow out the rest of the day. I have vowed to never eat Bison Beef or
Sesame Chicken again. I will be sticking to a bland diet of chicken, turkey and regular hamburgers (especially Wendy's). I am also going to work on tracking what I eat to alleviate more gas attacks. It's frustrating when he fusses, but really I just feel horrible that something I ate made him so uncomfortable. He's so darn cute.
Today, my mom calls and asks if we're having a better day. Yes, a much better day. The turkey I had for dinner the night before seems to have put him to sleep for endless hours. Then she starts laughing again. She said that every time she thinks about our day yesterday she starts laughing. Why? Because we are so Type A and A+ (I'm the plus).
WHATEVER! At least I'm an A+
And yes, I'm having the pictures redone, for free (shame on them for not showing me the drool) sometime before the baptism in December. And I will go during the week when all the other rugrats are in school and I won't have to wait. There is peace on earth.